


Family Bonding on the Open Road

by Frosted-Soil (Jackson_Overland_Frost)



Category: Real Person Fiction, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Family Dynamics, Family Fluff, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, Real Life, Road Trips, Sleepy Bois Inc as Family, Team Bonding, TommyInnit-centric (Video Blogging RPF), cross country road-trip, no beta we accept our death as canon, real names?? no platonic clingy duo tag?? Wack, the inevitable DreamSMP meet-up, vlogging - Freeform, what the FUCK are this fandoms character and relationship tags tbh, wtf do i tag this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 00:02:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29179959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackson_Overland_Frost/pseuds/Frosted-Soil
Summary: Dream was planning a meetup in Orlando for the actors on the DreamSMP – just whoever could make it on the fairly short notice of two months in advance. Now that covid restrictions were nearly non-existent and George was fully moving there anyways, it was the prime time to do so. Usually Tommy would fit into the group of people who couldn’t – along with Tubbo, Ranboo, Niki, and a few others, but that obviously didn’t stop him from complaining.And complaining.And complaining.Until at last Wilbur just searched up an old number in his contacts, called Tommy’s dad, and essentially said “Please let me take your son to America, or else he will hold this over my head for the rest of existence, and I already want to die.”
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & Technoblade & TommyInnit & Phil Watson
Comments: 34
Kudos: 281





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place IRL (probably around summer 2021 idk), but it follows all the disclaimers that any character-focused fic in this fandom does – obviously if any creator says they're uncomfortable with something in this fic it'll be taken down, etc etc. That's also why I won't be using any of the CCs real names in this fic, and other than Phil and Kristen being married there won't be any romantic relationships. 
> 
> anyways this is straight fluff because I can't deal with the smp angst anymore

Tommy drummed his fingers impatiently on the armrest of the car, the other hand keeping his phone steady on the windowsill to film the passing highway. The tapping noises would definitely be audible in the video, but he would probably end up editing music over the travel montage anyways, so it didn’t really matter. 

“Have your friends texted you where they’re meeting you yet, Tom?” his dad asked, not taking his eyes off the road. Tommy ended the video and opened his text messages, glad for something to do with his hands. 

“Ye, Will is texting me. I think they’re pretty much at the airport, just waiting for me so that they can go through security.” He eyed the “...” bubble for a few more seconds before his phone started ringing. “Oh, Tubbo is calling me.” 

“Hey, Tommy!” Came Tubbo’s voice, far too loud as he put the phone up to his ear. The call was clearly on speaker – he could hear the bustling crowds of the airport in the background, as well as muffled bickering noises that may or may not have been Wilbur. Tommy grinned.

“Heya, big T! You’re already at the airport?” 

There was a scuffle, and Tommy pulled the phone away from his ear before it deafened him. “TOMMY.” Wilbur’s voice shouted. “HOW MUCH LONGER BEFORE YOU GET HERE?” 

“Jesus christ, Wilbur, you’re fuckin loud as shit, gonna blow my eardrums out.” Tommy turned right expectantly. “Dad, how much longer ‘till we get there?” 

“Around five minutes.” 

“Like five minutes!” 

Cheering erupted from his phone speakers and Tommy laughed along. Tubbo’s phone was passed around again, ending up with the calmest person in the group. 

“Hey mate, we’re waiting for you just outside security, I don’t think you can miss us,” Phil told him. “Will and Tubbo are being  _ very _ loud.” There was a faint “ _ hey _ ” heard in the background, and Phil chuckled into the microphone. “Mostly Will though. Is your dad coming into the airport as well?”

“Dad, are you going in to meet Phil and Wilbur or are you going straight home?” Tommy asked, pulling the phone away from his ear to turn his side of the call onto speaker as well. 

“I’ll drop you off and wait for you for a few minutes in case you come back outside,” he answered. “Who’s on the phone?” 

“Hi, this is Phil? I can have him text you when we see him, before we go through security,” Phil told him. 

“Is that Tommy’s dad?” Tubbo asked suddenly. “Hullo!” 

His dad laughed. “Hello. Thank you Phil, that sounds fine. We’re about there now.” 

“We can see the airport!” Tommy cheered, bouncing slightly in his seat to sit up straighter. He was getting antsy from being so close to seeing his friends, yet having to sit in a car for about half an hour in order to do so. “I’ll text you guys when we get there, see you soon!” 

-=-=-=-

**Tommyinnit** : how did u all get there?

**Tubbo_** : Dave drove me and Wilbur

**Tubbo_** : im pretty sure Kristen drove Phil but she left before we got here

**Tommyinnit** : k

**Tommyinnit:** im here now btw

**Tubbo_** : we dont see u?

**Tommyinnit** : not inside the building yet, we’re pulling up

**Tommyinnit** : ok i just walked through the doors?

**Tubbo_** : yep there u are

-=-=-=-

Tommy looked up from his phone to see Tubbo waving excitedly at him while repeatedly poking Wilbur in the arm. He raced over, grinning and nearly bowling into Tubbo, to Wilbur and Phil’s great amusement. Tubbo’s arms wrapped around him within the span of a breath, and Tommy wheezed out in breathless laughter. 

“Holy shit, man, I haven’t seen you in forever,” he laughed, putting his head on top of Tubbo’s. “Holy  _ shit _ man. You’re so fuckin short. I nearly forgot how short you are. You’re so much clingier in person too.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” Tubbo protested. “This is– this is discrimination.” 

“Short people deserve to be discriminated against,” Wilbur decided, and accepted Tommy’s high five. “Short people do not deserve rights. It’s now illegal to be short – Tubbo, you’re going to baby jail.” 

“What!?” he pulled an affronted look, backing out of Tommy’s arms to gasp dramatically at Wilbur. “Phil, Phil, Wilbur is bullying people, Wilbur is being a dick–” 

“Wilbur, is Phil short or not?” Tommy asked curiously. “Phil, how tall are you?” 

Phil thought for a moment. “A hundred eighty cenimeters, I think?” 

“Is that short? Will, is that short?” 

“I feel like the more important question is whether or not we should be discussing this here, or while we’re standing in line for security,” Tubbo piped up. 

“Tommy, have you texted your dad yet?” Phil asked. 

“...ah shit.”

-=-=-=-

After the first hour or so, a plane ride starts to get boring. After two hours, Tommy had started to get antsy. After  _ five _ hours, nearly halfway into this particular flight, Tommy was too restless to sleep, and too bored to actually do anything. It wasn’t like he was thirsty or had to go to the bathroom, and the flight attendant had come by with their bad airplane dinner a good few hours ago, but the seat was scratchy and starting to get really uncomfortable, and his leg was possibly starting to cramp up. Mostly, Tommy was feeling the deep urge to bother someone, and the closest person was Tubbo, who was leaning against the small window with earbuds in, eyes half-closed but clearly not asleep. Every few seconds he would pull a face and rewind part of the audio before putting his phone back in his pocket. 

“Tubbo, I’m fuckin bored.” 

Tubbo took one earbud out of his ear and offered it to Tommy wordlessly before looking back down at his phone. 

“What are you listening to?” he asked, leaning over his best friend’s shoulder. “What is this.” 

“Podcast. Welcome to Nightvale – it’s a series of recorded episodes of this… community radio station out in the desert, real isolated place. It’s really interesting, you know how little isolated towns get really weird.” 

Tommy made a face, scrunching up his nose. “Sounds  _ real _ boring, bruv.” 

“It’s really not. Want to listen with me?” 

Since he thought he’d rather make fun of Tubbo for being boring rather than just be bored on his own, Tommy accepted the earbud and put it in, putting up the armrest between them so that he could lean on his friend’s shoulder. Adjusting to Tommy’s weight, Tubbo waited for the other teen to settle before unlocking his phone and pressing play again. A few moments later, and Tommy was yanking the earbud out again, pressing his lips together to suppress laughter as he widened his eyes dramatically. 

“What the fuck, what the shit – Tubbo, you said this was a  _ news station _ !?” Tommy yelped. 

Giggling breathlessly, Tubbo paused the episode again, covering his mouth so that he didn’t disturb the other passengers, nor Phil who was sleeping in the row behind them. “Not  _ actually _ , no! Where do you think I’m getting my bits from?” 

“I thought you were just naturally chaotic!” Tommy protested.

“I am, I am,” Tubbo said, “I just also consult the masters of the craft! The chaos masters, the masters of chaos.”

“It’s plagiarism is what it is! A man could get expelled,  _ killed _ for plagiarism! Run over by a truck!”

“I’m not going to get run over by a truck for listening to the Magnus Archives, Tommy,” Tubbo wheezed, pushing Tommy off of his shoulder. Unfortunately, he was no match for the taller boy’s tactic of simply ragdolling onto him. 

Wilbur’s arm inserted itself into the space between them, reaching through the crack between their seats to hit at them both. “Shut up, children. Phil is fucking sleeping, and you’re being loud.” 

-=-=-=-

Tommy did eventually fall asleep sometime around 11:00pm gmt, Tubbo’s head on his shoulder and his head on top of Tubbo’s. He was startled awake by the beeping of the plane intercom and a cold finger prodding the back of his neck. 

“Wake up, Tommy, wake up. Tommyinnit. Awaken,” Wilbur said, shifting focus to poke Tubbo awake as well. “You too, Tubbo. Put your seatbelts on, the plane is descending.” 

Tubbo blinked his eyes open, winced, and squeezed them shut again as he sat up. The bright slat of light falling from the window had fallen directly on his face, and he closed the window completely before looking around. There was a red crease on his cheek from sleeping for so long on Tommy’s shoulder, and he rubbed his face with a yawn. Tommy stretched as well as he was able in the small space, and buckled his seatbelt as instructed before putting his things back into his backpack. From the sound of the shuffle next to him, he assumed Tubbo was doing the same. 

Finished, Tommy leaned over his friend’s back to open the window again, re-noticing the roar of the plane’s engine as the noise increased. The sky outside was bright blue, without a cloud in sight either below nor above them. It was far too sunny outside considering it was – Tommy checked his watch and groaned – not even five in the morning back in England. 

“What fuckin time is it?” he asked, turning around in his seat to look down at Wilbur and Phil. 

Wilbur paused in his packing up to pull out his phone and look at it, only to sigh and put it away again. “Phone’s on airplane mode, hasn’t updated yet. I think we were supposed to arrive at like, one-ish though. Phil?” 

“Yeah mate, we’re meant to arrive at 1:06, though I think we got here faster than they thought we would. It’s… 12:52 right now, I believe California is 8 hours ahead of us.” Phil frowned for a moment. “That sounds about correct.” 

“ _ Ladies and gentlemen, as we start our descent, please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position. Make sure your seat belt is securely fastened and all carry-on luggage is stowed underneath the seat in front of you or in the overhead bins. We also ask that you turn off all personal electronic devices, including laptops and cellphones. Thank you. _ ” As soon as the voice over the intercom finished, the plane pitched downwards and Tommy experienced a half second of weightlessness as Tubbo, next to him, put a hand over his stomach and made a face. 

“Not a fan of that!” he proclaimed as the decent evened out. 

“If you throw up on me, I’m never meeting up with you again,” Tommy threatened with a laugh. “I’ll turn around and take the next plane home.” 

Tubbo let out a half-hearted giggle, leaning forward. “And miss your one and only chance to meet ‘Blade? You wouldn’t dare.” 

“I would dare, I would dare,” Tommy told him. “I hate Technoblade, I’ll never meet up with him either. Fuck that guy.” 

“Tommy, you wanted to be his best friend,” Tubbo said, amused, fond and deeply exasperated. Tommy sighed dramatically, bringing a hand to his chest. 

“Oh, but it would be so cool to be best friends with the  _ Blade _ ,” he said. “No offense to you, Tubbs. Tubster. Big T. Lil T. But imagine being friends with  _ Technoblade _ – the man’s beaten Dream! At his own game!”

“You  _ are _ friends with Techno, Tommy,” Tubbo said, laughing harder at his friend’s antics. 

“I  _ know _ .” Tommy grinned. “That’s why I’m the coolest.” 

The plane lurched again, but this time Tubbo was too full of breathless laughter to even notice. 

-=-=-=-

Dream was planning a meetup in Orlando for the actors on the DreamSMP – just whoever could make it on the fairly short notice of two months in advance. Now that covid restrictions were nearly non-existent and George was fully moving there anyways, it was the prime time to do so. Usually Tommy would fit into the group of people who couldn’t – along with Tubbo, Ranboo, Niki, and a few others, but that obviously didn’t stop him from complaining. 

And complaining. 

And complaining. 

Until at last Wilbur just searched up an old number in his contacts, called Tommy’s dad, and essentially said “Please let me take your son to America, or else he will hold this over my head for the rest of existence, and I already want to die.” 

From there, things spiraled. Tubbo and Wilbur lived near each other, and it took little convincing before the both of them were driving up to Tommy in Nottingham to meet up at the airport. Phil had been planning on meeting up with Wilbur  _ in _ Florida, but after a few last-minute plane ticket changes, he was meeting them at the East Midlands Airport as well. The changes did mean Kristen couldn’t come along, but in Phil’s words: “Don’t worry mate. I’ll take one for the team, and she can just meet us there.” 

There was still the last member of the group though, the last member of the Sleepy Bois Incorporated – Technoblade. It was Phil’s idea, to fly to San Francisco instead of Florida, and take a week-long, cross country road trip in order to make it to the meetup with Techno in tow. Tommy had quickly agreed, since that kind of chaos was the exact kind of content he had been wanting for his youtube channel since his last vlog, and he had managed to convince Tubbo to his side as well. Wilbur, given the rare opportunity to annoy Technoblade in person, accepted, and all efforts went into convincing their last missing piece. Poor Techno hadn’t even planned on going to the meet-up, but now he was being dragged in a full on road trip, albeit with people that were (regrettably) his best friends. 

Still, he ended up agreeing to the plan as well. After all, he’d been – what was the saying? – “mildly peer pressured! What else was he meant to do?” 

-=-=-=-

San Francisco was  _ hot _ . So hot. So hot that Tommy removed his jacket within a nanosecond of entering the airport, contemplated removing his shirt as well, and deeply regretted wearing jeans. He turned on his camera and started recording. 

“Jesus  _ christ _ it is hot here,” he told told his future viewers, voice hoarse from the airplane. “Wow, I sound like shit. It is so goddamn hot, I swear – Wilbur, tell them how hot it is.” 

Wilbur glanced at Tommy’s face, and then at the camera. “I thought you had the courtesy to not point cameras into people’s faces when they’re clearly tired from the airplane,” he said. 

“Not when it’s you, big man! Tell ‘em it’s so hot here, come on.” 

“It’s so  _ fucking _ hot here,” Wilbur said, monotone. “Hotter than, uh, the hottest woman–”

Tommy wheezed, the camera bobbing. “I’m so stealing that, I’m so stealing that. Editor Larry, cut that bit out. Wilbur,  _ nothing _ could be hotter that the Queen.” 

Phil looked over at him skeptically, and Tommy turned the camera on him. “She’s a little old for you, Tommy,” he said, and Wilbur let out a surprised laugh, the others joining in until they were all wheezing in a disjointed wonky circle. The other passengers walking past them looked at the group oddly, though they thankfully weren’t recognized due to the masks they were still wearing from the airplane. Tommy’s phone dropped to his side and he ended the recording before shoving it into his pocket. 

“ _ This _ is why I shove a camera into your face after we get off the plane, Will,” Tommy proclaimed smugly. “That’ll be good content.”

“Good content, that’s a first,” Wilbur snorted. Tommy just hit him across the shoulder, suppressing his awe at the fact that he could just… do that now. He was so used to  _ wanting _ to hit Wilbur, and now that he could he was a little Shook. 

“Shut up, you aren’t allowed to make quips anymore,” he said. “I’m not filming anymore, the camera has been put away.” 

“Good, I meant it,” Wilbur told him, and made a noise when Tommy smacked him across the shoulder again, harder. “Phil, Phi–Dadzaaa, Tommy is hitting me,” he laughed. 

“Don’t hit each other, boys,” Phil sighed, perfectly monotone. 

“What about me?” Tubbo asked.

Phil thought about it for a moment. “Ye, you can do whatever you want.” 

“What!?” Tommy managed, before Tubbo pushed him hard enough to nearly send him toppling into Wilbur with a cheer. “Wilbur, team up with me.” 

“We need to go get our luggage and then go rent a car so we can pick up Techno,” Wilbur said, checking the time on his phone. 

“Wilbur,  _ team up with me _ .” 

He checked his phone again, looked up at Tommy and Tubbo half-wrestling in the airport terminal, looked at the  _ deeply tired _ face of Phil, and shrugged. “Yeah, alright. Might be faster,” he said, and bodily removed Tubbo from Tommy with a grin, ignoring both their protests. “Alright, let’s go.” 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day on the road. Everyone is settling down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is literally just fluff, this is literally just fluff, this is what I need in my soul after the most recent chapters of my other WIP... did you know that in that one the main character just died and we're setting up for an abusive relationship? Family Bonding is my own goddamn comfort fic.

Tommy pointed the phone to his right, filming Wilbur and Tubbo belting out  _ Come On Eileen _ at the top of their lungs. It felt odd to watch cars passing them by on the other side of the road, and he could only imagine the struggle that Phil was going through, trying to drive them through the unreasonably wide roads towards Techno’s house. San Francisco was possibly the most confusing city Tommy had ever seen, the streets too wide and the buildings too tall and too new. It was hot as all hell, and since nobody had been able to get the air conditioning to work, all the windows were wide open, letting dust in to settle on their clothes and in their lungs. 

He didn’t know how much of that he would end up being able to put in the video, considering copyright and all, so instead he opened Discord and DMed the video to Technoblade, with a quick “ _ on our way _ ”. As the chorus came on again, Tommy leaned into Tubbo and sang along, the sun blinding him in the clear blue sky. 

-=-=-=-

Technoblade was waiting for them outside, a backpack slung over his shoulder, one hand on the small suitcase at his side, and his head tilting down at his phone. Tommy leaned his head and half his shoulders out the window as Phil slowed and started to pull over, and started shouting. 

“OY, TECHNO!” He yelled out the window, grinning ferally. “HEY BITCH! TECHNOBLADE!” 

Techno looked up, did something of a double-take, and visibly rolled his eyes as he started walking towards them. Phil came to a stop and came out of the car to help Technoblade with his luggage, hauling his suitcase into the trunk as Techno brought his backpack into the backseat. Tommy and Tubbo both scooting over to give him room. 

“Actually, Techno, how do you feel about driving the first stretch?” Phil asked, closing the trunk and coming back around. “I’m still groggy from the plane, and it might be a good idea to get used to your American traffic and everything before driving for too long. It’s been a while since Kristen and I visited, and even then I didn’t drive much.” 

“Yea, sure,” Techno said, standing up straight. “I don’t mind. You wanna sit back here then?” 

Phil looked at Techno, looked at the two teens in the backseat, looked at Techno, and then turned to Wilbur with a pleading stare. Wilbur looked at Phil, then at the backseat as well, and sighed. 

“You can switch seats with me, Phil,” He told him, climbing into the backseat. 

“What the fuck, Will,” Tommy complained loudly, pushing Wilbur’s hips away and into his new seat. “Get outta my goddamn face, geezus. You’re so fucking— you are fucking annoying, you are so fucking weird.” 

“Well, you’re gonna be dealing with me for the next six hours, you little shit, so I guess you’ll have to learn how to deal with it,” Wilbur told him, maneuvering his legs around Technoblade’s backpack. “Get fucked.” 

“Hey, big man!” Tubbo cheered, leaning behind Tommy to pat Wilbur on the shoulder. “Welcome to the backseat squad.  _ Backseat’s back, alright! Du dududu _ ”

Tommy wheezed. “What the— what the fuck, what the fuck man,” he laughed. “We’re not a fuckin’ band, Tubbo.”

“We could be,” Wilbur considered, and reached over him to give Tubbo a high-five. “I’m lead singer and guitar, obviously.”

“I’ll be drums, drums are cool as shit,” Tommy decided. “Only big men can play the drums. And you get sticks to hit people with.”

“I… don’t think that’s what drumsticks are for, Tommyinnit,” Wilbur said. “In fact, I’m fairly certain you’re meant to use them on drums.”

“I love chicken,” Tommy agreed, nonsensically, to Wilbur’s great amusement. “What would you be in our band, Big T?” 

Tubbo thought about it. “I think I’d like to play one of those piano things. The little like, floating pianos.”

“A  _ keyboard _ ?” Wilbur asked, trying to contain his laughter enough to speak coherently, and admittedly succeeding, but only barely. “Do you mean a  _ keyboard _ , Tubbo?” 

“No no, one of those ones where you–” Tubbo paused to make a nasally  _ doo doo doo _ noise. “You know, like you blow into it and it doesn’t sound like a piano, you blow through a plastic tube, right? And you press on this floating piano keyboard, you have to hold it, and it makes a noise.” 

“A–  _ skkttsdksfjk, _ a  _ melodica _ , Tubbo,” Wilbur managed. “It’s  _ called _ a  _ melodica _ .” 

“Yeah, a melodica!” Tubbo said. “I own one, you know. They’re quite fun. What about you, Technoblade?”

“Techno isn’t part of the Backseat Boys,” Tommy protested. “He’s obviously in one of the front seats.” 

“Yeah, but he was  _ going _ to sit in the backseat until Phil made him drive, so he’s an honorary member,” Tubbo told him. “Hey Techno, what instrument would you play in our band?”

Technoblade tilted his head to one side, keeping his eyes on the road. “Did you know I actually played the saxophone in middle school?” he asked, completely deadpan. 

“You can’t play the fucking  _ saxophone _ in a  _ band _ ,” Tommy shouted, appalled. “We mean like, bass guitar and piano and shit!” 

“Well, I sure played saxophone in 7th grade band class, Tommy, so I’m not sure where you got that idea from,” Techno told him. 

“Not  _ that _ kind of fuckin band!” he screeched. 

“You let Tubbo play the fucking melodica,” Wilbur gasped, laughing so hard he looked like he might start crying. “But you won’t let Techno– you won’t let him play the  _ fucking saxophone _ , I’m–” 

“To be fair,” Tubbo added, also cackling. “To be fair, Techno is right. There are plenty of bands with saxophones. Jazz bands, middle school bands, high school bands, high school  _ jazz bands _ –” 

“Marching bands,” Technoblade added, still somehow monotone. He was the last person in the car who wasn’t breathless with laughter – even Phil was losing it in the passenger seat. “There’s actually a very famous band with a well-known saxophone player that you’ve definitely heard of.” 

“What is it,” Tommy asked, resigned to his fate. 

“The Backseat Boys.” 

-=-=-=-

“My fucking legs are starting to cramp up,” Wilbur complained, leaning back in his seat. He toed off his shoes and stretched his feet out in front of him as far as he could – which wasn’t very far, with Techno’s backpack and the entire driver’s seat in the way. 

“You’re kicking the bottom of my seat, stop it,” Techno said, not even twitching. 

“Oh am I?” This time there was visible movement underneath at the bottom of the car, Wilbur jabbing his toes up into the bottom of the driver’s seat. “Am I kicking you, Technoblade?” 

“I will not hesitate to drive this car into a palm tree, killing us all instantly,” he deadpanned. The car swerved, very slightly, towards the side of the road, before settling back on track. The rest of the highway was, thankfully, empty. “Don’t think I won’t.” 

Phil let out a startled chuckle. “Techno mate, do  _ not _ do that. I have to pay for this car,” he said, giving a very excellent nervous laugh. That was one they all had substantial practice with. “What do you think I’m going to tell Tommy and Tubbo’s parents?” 

“I said I would kill  _ all _ of us, Phil,” Technoblade told him. “Including you. You aren’t goin to haveta tell anybody anything, seeing as you’ll be dead.” 

Phil just sighed. “Take the next exit you see, Techno,” he said wearily. “I have a feeling we all want to stretch our legs, at this point, and we should probably fill up on gas sometime before dinner anyways.” 

“Good idea, big man,” Tommy piped up. “You know I haven’t mentioned it, but I rather need to urinate.” He emphasized each syllable in  _ urinate _ individually. 

“Mmhmm, same,” Tubbo agreed, looking up from his phone. He and Tommy had been watching a JSchlatt vod together, agreeing to switch to Tommy’s phone once Tubbo’s battery ran out. It was at something like 7%, but it was still holding out. 

“There we go,” Phil said, like it was settled. And suddenly, it simply was. “Boys, call out when you see a gas station, alright?” 

-=-=-=-

Wilbur led Tommy in a dance around the gas station parking lot, the both of them laughing so hard it had them more out of breath than the whole dancing thing did. They were doing their best to sing  _ Take a Break _ from Hamilton, the two of them switching parts back and forth so that every time there was an exchange they could each sing one part. Tommy had started off as Phillip, and then they’d fought over Alexander’s part for several moments. Tubbo held up his phone to film the two being ridiculous while Phil filled up the gas, the least recognizable of the four having taken everyone else’s orders before going inside to purchase snacks and water. 

They were meant to stay on the down-low, really, but they were at an American gas station in the middle of nowhere, and there was no reason for anyone to suspect the entire Sleepy Bois Inc were there. Even if they were recognized in a parking lot with at most five other people, two of which were middle-aged truck drivers, it was so unlikely that they would be approached about it, Wilbur and Tommy just decided to fuck laying low in favor of  _ actually _ stretching their legs. 

Technoblade left the gas station with a faint  _ ding _ from the bell above the door, carrying several shopping bags. 

“I have looked up, on my phone, what snacks aren’t available outside of the US,” he announced gravely. “And it is a great shame that you, Tubbo Underscore, have never had warheads. And you, Tommyinnit, have never had Mountain Dew. And you, Wilbur Soot, have never had Cheez Its. It’s a truly near-inconceivable tragedy that none of you have experienced these essential childhood disgusting gas station junk foods.” 

“Did you get me those powdered sugar Hostess Donuts?” Phil shouted, poking his head around the car. 

“Yes.” Technoblade pursed his lips. “Are those also only available in America?” 

“No idea, mate. I’ve never seen them back home though, so if they are, they aren’t exactly widely available,” he replied. “Kristen got me hooked on ‘em though. They’re like meth.” 

Techno considered this, and then nodded. “Seems legit.”

-=-=-=-

After their short break they had switched seating arrangements, the road empty enough and Phil settled enough that he had elected to drive for the rest of the day. Techno had joined the Backseat Boys, while Wilbur had moved up to the passenger seat in hopes of at least partially solving the whole leg cramping issue. 

It was starting to get late, and though the majority of them had slept on the plane, plane-naps were no substitute for actual rest. Besides, they had been sitting still pretty much all day, which combined with the darkening skies had the group starting to feel drowsy. Tommy flopped lazily to the side, landing half on Technoblade’s shoulder and half on his lap, making the man rather jealous of Wilbur’s spot in the passenger’s seat. 

“Remove yourself, child,” he commanded, elbowing the boy in the ribs and shoving him back towards Tubbo as much as Tommy’s ragdoll droopiness would allow. Unfortunately for Techno, Tommy’s limbs and lankiness didn’t allow for much at all. 

“Hey, no, don’t push him towards me, I’ve already had to deal with this one the whole flight here,” Tubbo protested, making Tommy perk up.

“Aww, you don’t love me, big man?” he asked, laughing. He shoved several of his limbs into Tubbo’s personal space with a grin, making the other teen giggle even as he tried to push his friend away. In the end, neither Techno nor Tubbo succeeded, and Tommy ended up half sprawled against both of them, to Tubbo’s exasperated and fond laughter, and Technoblade’s monotone disgruntlement. 

“Will, tomorrow morning it’s my turn in the front seat,” Techno said, ignoring Wilbur’s blatant amusement and the way he was stifling his own laughter. 

“Tomorrow morning when we set off again,” Tubbo added, “ _ please _ make Tommy sit in one of the window seats?” 

“Now this raises an unfortunate problem,” Phil said, drawing everyone’s attention without taking his eyes off the road for even a moment – in an environment such as this one, quite an impressive achievement. “If Tommy is seated by the window, someone will have to sit in the middle.”

“Not it,” Techno said immediately. “I’ve already called the front seat, you  _ fools _ .”

“Not it,” Wilbur and Tubbo said in quick succession. 

“No fucking way am I sitting next to the child, I’ve just escaped  _ that _ bloody cesspool, thank you very much, and I’d prefer not to return.”

“You fuckin’ bitch,” Tommy told him, leaning forward to puch Wilbur in the shoulder. “Why don’t you wanna sit next to me? I’m a fucking joy to be around. And you too, Big T?” he turned to Tubbo with his best faux-offended expression, a smile still poking through. 

Tubbo just sighed. “I… don’t mind  _ that _ much, but someone else better take the second shift.” 

“You’re killing me, you’re killing me. Tubbo, how could you. You– you are a bastard, you know that? I thought you were my best friend, and now you don’t even want to sit by me?” Tommy fell backwards in his seat, one hand on his chest and the other draped across his forehead. “The betrayal, I can’t believe it. This is worse than exiling me from L’manburg. I’m wounded, big T, I’ve been murdered–” 

“Stop being such a drama queen, Tommy,” Tubbo said, nudging him in the arm. 

“I was stating straight facts, big man,” he insisted. “Besides, how can I be a queen? I’m a man – if anything, I’m a drama  _ king _ .” 

This set off another round of laughter, and even after they settled down again, the high-energy moment kept them all awake as the car made its way towards their stop for the night. 

-=-=-=-

By the time they were actually nearing the hotel though, the sky was fully black, everyone was drowsy, and it was nearing 10:00pm. Young people, you know – they get over jet lag so fast. 

Tubbo was leaning against Tommy’s side with his eyes closed, absorbing his friend’s body heat now that the sun had set, who in turn was leaning against the car door, face pressed up to the cool glass of the window. They were listening to Tubbo’s podcast together, sharing a pair of earbuds, and both half-awake at most. Wilbur was looking out the window, spotify playlist on shuffle and fingers tapping against his thigh as the streetlights rushed past and the yellow moon chased them across the sky. They had given up on playing music for the whole car some time after sunset, their tastes in music too different, and the group too prone to bickering for there to be any functioning system for splitting the time. 

Phil still focused on the road, Techno’s phone propped up on the dashboard with google maps open. Techno, next to him, read out memes and twitter replies on Phil’s account to him in solidarity to keep him awake. Phil’s phone had run out of battery a little while ago and they had switched to Techno’s, so that ended up being their arrangement while it charged. Occasionally Phil would chuckle, or tell Technoblade how to respond. A few times, he turned around in his chair to prob Wilbur in the knee and shove the phone in his face – usually for some fanart of them all together, or something along those lines. 

Actually getting to their rooms was an adventure and a half, Tommy half-draped over Wilbur’s back and holding Tubbo’s hand as Wilbur rolled his eyes and essentially dragged the two inside. Tubbo accepted his duffle bag when it was handed to him, and slung it over his shoulder with a groan but without much complaint. Tommy refused to let go of either of his friends, and Wilbur affixed Techno with a glare as he finagled two sleepy teenagers, which meant Phil and Technoblade were both stuck carrying two sets of luggage inside. 

“We got two rooms, which means someone has to sleep on the floor,” Wilbur whispered to Phil. “If Tommy and Tubbo wanna room together, I’m happy to be that person if you and Techno want to each take a bed in the other room. They probably need the supervision.”

“You don’t need to, mate, I’m happy to as well,” Phil told him. 

Tommy groaned and blinked his eyes open. “Big T and I can share a bed and nobody has to sleep on the floor, how’s that for an option,” he suggested drowsily. “Tubbs is pretty small and it ain’t like they’re twin-size beds or some shit, it doesn’t really matter.”

Wilbur frowned. “It could work, if Tubbo’s alright with it.”

“Tubbo, if we don't share a bed Will’s gonna sleep on the floor and have a sore back tomorrow and blame it on you,” Tommy said, squeezing Tubbo’s hand as hard as he could to make him pay attention. “We have to spend eight hours in a car together and he’ll be insufferable and terrible and a bitch. What do you say.” 

Tubbo just shrugged, his shoulders drooping. “Sure,” he said. “It doesn’t really matter.” 

Unbeknownst to them, Technoblade had lagged behind, digging his phone out his back pocket. He opened his camera and snapped a picture – Wilbur and Phil speaking quietly, their heads close together so that it looked like they were conspiring. Tommy, clinging to Tubbo and Phil and looking half asleep. They looked like a family – an odd one, perhaps, but a family that belonged together. 

  
After glancing over the photo and making sure nothing incriminating was being leaked – their location, the faces of any of the employees in the background, Tommy and Tubbo’s linked hands (there were always weirdos on the internet who would inspect every interaction, but Techno didn’t feel like fueling that burning dumpster fire of a flame) – he tweeted it out with a simple caption: “ _ this post brought to you by Sleepy Bois Inc _ .”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Clingyduo is going to hold hands and cuddle and share a bed and there is going to be absolutely ZERO romantic subtext, so don't be weirdchamp in my comments <3 Your honor their friendship tag is _literally Clingyduo_ , let them be clingy

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! please drop some kudos and leave a comment, they're really encouraging and even though I might not reply to them I definitely read them all. even though I love to write, comments are still a huge motivator for me to continue updating.


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